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opinion?”
    The change of subject, from skinny-dipping to the BLM, had thrown Drake a little, and Luce took a certain satisfaction in the victory, however small and unimportant.
    The room was empty, except for them, and Luce was of two minds about that. On the one hand, she liked having Drake Carson all to herself. On the other, she was nervous to the point of discomfort.
    Drake, she noticed, had recovered quickly, and with no discernible brain split. He’d probably never been “of two minds” about anything in his life, Luce thought, with some ruefulness. Unless she missed her guess, he was a one-track kind of guy.
    Now he leaned back in his chair, his expression giving nothing away. And, after due deliberation, he finally replied to her question.
    â€œWhat accounts for the increase? Well, Ms. Hale, that’s simple. Good grazing land and plenty of water—the two main reasons my family settled here in the first place, over a hundred years ago.”
    She wondered if he might be holding back a sarcastic comment, something in the category of any-idiot-ought-to-be-able-to-figure-that-out.
    She had, in fact, taken note of the obvious; she’d put in long hours mapping out the details of her dissertation. She wanted his take on the subject, since that was the whole point of this or any other conversational exchange between them.
    Okay, so she wasn’t an expert, but she was eager to learn. Wasn’t that what education was all about, from kindergarten right on up through postgraduate work?
    She decided to shut down the little voice in her head, the one that presumed to speak for both her and Drake, before it got her into trouble.
    â€œWhat makes it so good?” she asked with genuine interest. “The type of grass?”
    His gaze was level. “There’s a wide variety, actually, but quantity matters almost as much as quality in this case.” A pause. “By the way, there are a lot more wild horses in Utah than here in Wyoming.”
    Zap.
    â€œYes, I know that,” Luce replied coolly, determined to stay the course. She hadn’t gotten this far by running for shelter every time she encountered a challenge. “And I realize you would prefer I went there to do my research,” she countered, keeping her tone even and, she hoped, professional. “Bottom line, Mr. Carson, I’m not going anywhere.”
    â€œWhy here? Why me?” For the first time, he sounded plaintive, rather than irritated.
    â€œFair questions,” Luce conceded. “I chose the Carson ranch because it meets all the qualifications and, I admit, because my mother knows your mother. I guess that sort of answers your second inquiry, too—you’re here, and you run the place. One thing, as they say, led to another.” She let her answer sink in for a moment, before the windup. “And, I will admit, your commitment to animal rights intrigues me.”
    That was all Drake needed to know, for the time being. If she had a weakness for tall, blond cowboys with world-class bodies and eyes so blue it almost hurt to look into them, well, that was her business.
    He surprised her with a slanted grin. “I know when I’m licked,” he drawled.
    The remark was anything but innocent, Luce knew that, but she also knew that if she called him on it, she’d be the one who looked foolish, not Drake.
    Bad enough that she blushed, hot and pink, betrayed by her own biology.
    He watched the whole process, clearly pleased by her involuntary reaction.
    She had to look away, just briefly, to recover her composure. Such as it was.
    â€œThis can be easy,” she said when she thought she could trust her voice, “or it can be har—difficult.”
    Wicked mischief danced in his eyes. “The harder—more difficult—things are,” he said, “the better I like it.”
    Luce wanted to yell at him to stop with the double entendres, just stop, but she wasn’t